Hi everyone, so this blog has been much of a personal outlet for me and I am once again feeling the urge to share my feelings with you. I understand if you don’t want to read, but life is too short to take others for granted and maybe in my sharing, someone else can find comfort.
This past week or so, marked one month since my dad’s surgery. If you haven’t read, The Little Things post, here is what it’s about. My dad was diagnosed with an extremely rare form of cancer called Leiomyosarcoma and it was in the form of a massive tumor in his knee. It was thankfully removed and part of his femur had to be cut out as well. But, his tumor was determined to be high grade. So the doctor said he needed to see an oncologist in regards to chemo.
Just as we were grateful to almost sort of be seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, the oncologist proceeds to say that because this cancer is so rare, no one knows an accurate form of treatment for it. That you could meet with ten different oncologist and each one would give you a different answer to treatment. That doing chemo would be a matter of opinion and you would have to decide for yourself if it was needed. My dad’s cat scan shows that it hasn’t spread to anywhere in his body, THAT WE CAN SEE.
Due to the tumor being a high grade, there is a chance its microscopically present somewhere in his system. Upon getting my hopes up to knowing what the next step in this process was, it was no surprise that I was completely let down and angry. It felt like all the anger that flooded my heart when this all came about, hit me again.
Really? Treatment is just a matte of opininon? Why is this happening, why does it have to be like this, why can’t the answer be in black and white? And I know I sound ungrateful because things could be SO much worse and I am so grateful everyday that things AREN’T worse. But I can’t control my emotions. My brain knows what’s going on, but my heart doesn’t. So to anyone who was wondering how things were going, that’s it.
He goes to physical therapy weekly, my mom has to help him do everything and its hard. He has another 6 weeks, or so until he can walk. I know this is temporary and things will get better with time. I can’t help but feel bitter and wish this wasn’t happening, or that the answer to treatment was simple. What if he needs chemo and doesn’t take it, what if he takes chemo and doesn’t need it? Chemo comes with its own handful of health risk, problems, and dangers. Now more than ever, faith has to come into play. Well,there is my rant and whine for the day. If you read this, thank you.
until next time,
stay cute, stay sweet.